Worry poured out from my familiar, before she clamped down on it and began directing her Wood magic at the life struggling down beneath her.
You can make it, little one, I heard her say through the mindlink. Just keep growing, and everything will be fine.
“Too soon,” the pregnant woman moaned, her face twisted with tears and pain. “They will be born too soon, and will die! Like their father! Like everyone else!”
Twins, I thought as my heart skipped a beat. Twins born to a widow.
I hadn’t been able to save every life from the last Tumult. And judging by the poison-blue veins on the woman’s forehead, her life was in danger as well.
What are you waiting for? The no-longer quiet voice shouted inside my head. Crown her! Crown her, and write love on her arms!
Then the angry presence ripped my focus to the woman’s womb, where two lives were probably still struggling to leave their mother’s body. Stop hesitating! It demanded. Crown them both, and write love on their arms!
I was so overwhelmed, I didn’t even snap at the voice this time. I rushed over to the pregnant woman’s side. The midwives scooted slightly over, because I was their lord, and because they were too busy doing everything in their power to save three lives anyway, and couldn’t argue with me.
What’s happening, exactly? I asked Breena through the link as she kept casting. She was concentrating too hard to answer me out loud, but a tiny part of her brain was free for mental conversation.
Cold-based spell attacking the blood in her body, on top of a suffocation-based spell starving the body of oxygen, on top of an infanticide curse, all cast by a Dark Icon, flush from power granted by a nearly failed Tumult, Breena replied. This is all coming from an Icon that was strong enough to go toe-to-toe with Guineve for a bit, even though combat wasn’t that Icon’s strong suit.
I had forgotten that fact. Cail Fuar, the White Witch, whose winter army had nearly swallowed the Woadlands whole. On her own territory, she had been a match for all of the Light Icons on this world combined, and it was only by destroying her palaces and slaying her people’s monarchs that we were able to diminish her strength enough for Guineve to do the rest.
I also just now noticed that, except for Guineve, none of the midwives were touching the blue-veined pregnant woman’s limbs with their bare hands.
That was unfortunate, but my Blood magic provided both warmth and body vitality, and the best way to use it right now to was to touch the woman directly. I moved next to her clenched, bloody fist.
“Stay away!” she wept in short breaths. “The curse slew the husband who tried to save me! It will slay you too! Stay away!”
Do no such thing, the voice roared in my mind. I have told you already. You are a king! You are to crown her, and write love over her wounded limbs!
I shook with heaviness, but I reached for the woman’s nail-stabbed palm, grasped it with my own bare hand, and cast Vein to Vein.
My Blood magic had grown in power since its last use. It couldn’t hold a candle to Fuar’s three different magics, but that didn’t matter right now, because I wasn’t trying to undo the Dark Icon’s spells. I was just giving my body’s heat and the oxygen in my blood to the woman and the two lives inside of her. Caill Fuar’s magic recoiled from the heat and life, and tried to attack me, and my body shuddered under the onslaught of a Dark Icon’s remnant.
That was it, I realized. The Winter Witch had tried to escape destruction by hiding a piece of herself within these three lives.
My three lives, something in me growled. I had laid claim to these people. And now, once again, someone was trying to take something important from me, just as soon as I’d found it.
Careful, Wes! Breena hissed. This is dangerous, even for you!
She had a point.
But fuck careful.
Your purpose is not to be careful. You are to crown the least of these. You are to crown them, and to write love over their bloody arms!
Myself, my inner dragon, and the mad, invisible being were all in agreement for once. The Winter Witch’s power washed over me, and was countered by the resistance given to me by the overcome Trial, the overcome Tumult, my Woadtattoo, and my Water magic.
And by my rage.
I will protect. I will prevail.
My blood and heat slammed into the cold, driving it out of my body, then battered their way through the wounded palm.
I will be king. And I will crown the precious and the weak.
The outpouring of blood and heat seemed to be making a difference. The three connected lives shifted, moving away from the cliff-edge between life and death, to somewhere just a little steadier, just a little safer. Sensing this, Guineve diverted a thread of her magic away from keeping the mother and her twins alive, toward attacking the curses directly. The spell began to recoil from Guineve’s power, but the mother and unborn lives still quaked.
“Gone,” the poor woman wept. Her breaths came short now, turning her words into choppy sobs. “Their father... gone. Living... kin... too far away. How will… they live… alone? How will... they ever... be happy?”
Crown her, the angry voice repeated.
“My own father is long dead,” I answered, still pouring power and life into her wounded palm. “He died murdered, slandered, and disgraced. And I doubt I will ever see the rest of my family again. Yet I live in spite of death, and thrive in spite of grief. Your children are not less than me. Let them enter this world, and I swear they will not be alone.”
My voice shook with weight as I spoke the last words. Something heavy had come alongside and added its promise to my own. But I had no more time for distractions. The shadows flickered in this room, and the remnant of something hateful and powerful stirred.
Do not intervene, kingling! The cold poison in the woman’s veins screeched at me. Let me take these doomed lives and flee! I will leave and never return, but if you interfere, I swear this land will be kingless again! You will die for those already lost!
Foolish heretic witch, the invisible voice echoed through my skull. The life of a single orphan is worth the blood of a hundred thousand kings. Your threats are less than worthless. Stand down, so that he may crown and declare them beloved. Else I will rage, and allow him to devour you.
The shadows danced again.
Invictus? The ghost inside the poisoned veins asked in hollow disbelief. You found the Mad God? You found the Destroyer? You chose to follow him? You… the spiteful ghost seemed at a loss for words. You poor, doomed thing. The words of every tongue and every tribe cannot describe the ruin you have wrought upon yourself. Had I known, I never would have bothered to come here…
The ghost trailed off, and I felt the remains of something broken and half-dead drag itself away from us, and off of this world, to find some safe, distant corner to die in. Just before it left, I felt the thing take one final moment to pity me for not having the wisdom to do the same.
Then the woman holding my hand cried out again, and began contracting.
Crown her, the invisible one repeated. Perform your duty as king.
I had no clue in hell how to do what the voice wanted. But I gave it my best anyway.
“You are accepted, and not abandoned,” I told the woman, still pouring my life into her. It took less of my life essence, now that the undead demigoddess was gone, but I was still starting to feel the strain, and I could sense Breena’s worry over the mindlink as she fought to keep the twins alive. “You are my subject, and will have a place at my table. Your children will have a place as well. You will all be under my protection, and have access to food, clothing, and shelter. Guineve, the Guardian of Avalon, and Satellite of the Steward herself, will care for your children, as she is doing now. They will be citizens of Avalon and the Woadlands, and will partake in the golden age of both worlds. These are my words to you, as your new king.”
She made eye contact with me, eyes still wide with fear and pain.
“You promise?” she asked me with a
trembling voice.
“Yes,” I said as bluntly as possible. “And I am literally pouring my blood into you and your newborns as we speak. Take confidence that you three will be loved.”
I closed my eyes, reached out to my inner dragon for support, and redoubled what I was giving her. Through my Blood magic, I reached into my brain for some of my memories, past all the grief and bloody mess I had endured. I dug around until I could find the happy ones, the moments where I was rejoicing, in spite of being a disabled orphan, or victorious, in spite of being repeatedly murdered as a prisoner. I didn’t give away the whole memories themselves, but I was able to share tiny snippets with her, and give her hope.
Her eyes widened further, and something brave peeked out for a moment. Then she grunted, and her body heaved one more time.
I was then exposed to the beautiful, gross mess that was childbirth.
“We got them!” I heard Breena chirp as she flew downward toward the two women waiting at the other end of the new mother. “They’re alive!” I heard two tiny, panicked cries erupt beneath her. But the cries seemed short, and choked off.
Wes, she said in a tight, tense voice. She was hovering over the two women as they tried to hold the infants under the sprite. They’re too small. I felt her desperately pour Wood magic into the little ones. Not… not everything formed okay. I’m trying to help them finish growing, but...
Go.
I knew what I needed to do.
I rushed toward the small, struggling forms. They were both covered in blood, and I could hold each of them in one hand if I dared.
Fuar’s magic took something from them… I don’t know…
I did, I realized, as my Blood magic stirred. I knew what they needed me to give.
But my brain was telling me I might need to save those pieces of myself, instead of sharing them.
Denied, the invisible one said. Seek what is lost. Crown them, and write love on their forms.
One palm reached down and landed on each blood-covered form, and I cast Vein to Vein again, this time drawing from my own marrow, my own organs.
This was a bad idea. My body still hadn’t finished adjusting from my last Rise. My mindscreen couldn’t show me what physical changes had occurred. The infants would probably benefit, but I could screw something up horribly, something my body’s vital guard wouldn’t be able to fix.
I am not asking that you save yourself, the heavy voice said, this time speaking gently. I am asking you to seek what is lost, and to crown and love the weak.
Blood, marrow, and tissue washed out of me and into the fragile bodies beneath my palms.
The infants’ cries grew louder, and more distressed. I panicked, and poured more life into them. They grew a little bigger, right before my eyes, but then they screamed even more vociferously. I started to pour even more power, until Breena looked up from her own magic and told me to calm down. This was a good sign, she said. Babies were supposed to be this upset when they were born.
I backed off just enough to look at them. I had been acting on impulse, but the truth was that the two newborns under my hands did not look like the beautiful little angels I used to see on toilet paper ads. They reminded me of bloody, squalling reptiles that were frightened and angry about everything, and wanted everyone to know that they were upset, and to fix it for them.
But they couldn’t even tell anyone what was wrong. No articulation. No comprehension. No confidence in themselves to fix the problem on their own, or even figure out what the problem was. The only thing they came into this world knowing how to do was to cry for help.
I shuddered as the heavy presence inside my mind moved, as if it were trying to find a way to get close to them.
Crown them. They are to have more than this.
I had poured my power and life into them. But they were still cold. And alone. They lacked much. What little they had been given had been enough for today, but what about tomorrow? And the day after that?
Would they grow up disfigured? Would the others think them as cursed?
Crown them. I rage.
The women holding the small forms steady gasped as I suddenly sagged, and poured more power out of myself.
Memories of how it felt when I lost my dad. How it felt when I got hurt, and my body could no longer do the same things other kids my age could . How it felt every time people looked at me and wondered why I was so strange.
Then, I poured out memories of all my victories.
That time I stood up to Chris in front of his unconscious girlfriend.
That time I found that I could actually walk again, after years of being disabled by a condition that no doctor ever figured out.
Stell’s affirmation of all the things I had actually done, instead of the lies people had heaped upon me.
The first time I overcame a Challenge, and realized that no, I wasn’t too small, or too broken, to make a difference, and that I could change things for the better wherever I went, however I felt.
Then, as something sparked and burned in me, I was able to pour in just a tiny portion, less than a fraction of a percent, of the power I had gained from every single victory I had gained over my own brokenness.
I felt something shift in the tiny bodies under my palms. Their breathing grew steady, and they settled more comfortably into the wraps they were swaddled in. Then my knees buckled and I started to sink to the floor, lifting my hands to avoid pressing down on the babes.
Well done, the invisible, mad voice said, but my vision was already blurring. I felt like I had just lost something, poured out too much of myself.
As I sank to the floor, two tiny, coin-sized hands reached up and grasped a pair of my hovering fingers.
Crown him, I heard the voice say, and write love all over his ravaged arms.
Something pulsed out of the half-aware lives and channeled back into my body. It made pieces of me quiver, until I sank to the floor in a black haze.
Chapter 4: No Turning Back
I looked around, but swirling blackness followed my eyes.
“No,” I sighed. “Please don’t. Please don’t send me into some magic dream state not five minutes after you’ve woken me up from another magic dream state. I get way too many of these as it is. ”
Something behind me laughed.
I whirled to face the figure, drawing Breaker without even realizing it. The sword hilt took its newest form, that of the short sword of light, clearing about fifteen feet of darkness all around me. Then I processed the fact that I had somehow managed to bring a weapon to this dream state.
“It’s okay,” the voice that had laughed earlier said. “It shocked me, too. At least for the first dozen times.”
He was sitting down just at the edge of Solais’ circle of light. He was a tall man, with pale skin and curly black hair, dressed in a white tunic, trousers, and cloak, made of material that reminded me of Guineve’s clothing. His features also reminded me of Guineve’s, and of the newly resurrected Avalonians. He was wearing some kind of crown that I couldn’t make out for some reason. The rest of his jewelry was the same- his brooch, his belt buckle, the ring, and the bracer on one of his hands.
The only two pieces of jewelry I could make out were the Celtic-style arm band around his bicep and the beautiful black scabbard on his hips.
Which Breaker was resting in.
“Yes, it’s the same sword you have,” he said, in answer to the question I was still too shocked to ask. “Same scabbard and armband as well. I have no idea why we both have them here. And no, the whole process never makes any sense.”
“Okay,” I said, taking a breath I probably didn’t need, because again, dreaming. “Why don’t you go down the list of all my other likely questions, and save us time? Unless we need to exchange names? And whether or not we’re going to fight here?”
“That last one’s answer should be obvious,” the figure replied calmly. “But I can’t fault you for asking it. I’m not interested in attacking you. I’m n
ot sure we could even harm each other in this place to begin with, and I’m no longer alive, so you don’t have anything I want.” His eyes moved slightly as he considered my next question. “As far as I can tell, too much time has passed, even on the world of the Earthborn, for my name to have any significance to you. My title—our title, that is—is a different matter.”
“I’m guessing you’re the previous Lord of Avalon,” I replied carefully. “I’m guessing you wielded Breaker before me, and that the regalia you wear is a piece from each of Avalon’s worlds, and that right now, I can only make out the pieces I’ve already gained. I’m also guessing that, unlike me, you’re a full-blooded Avalonian, and that you’re appearing to me right now either because of the armband I’ve just gained, or because of what I just did.”
The sitting figure laughed again. When I looked again, I realized I couldn’t even tell what he was sitting on, and grew irritated.
“These things?” the man asked, pointing to the armband, and then the other items too blurry for me to make out, including the crown. “They couldn’t matter any less. The only reason to wear them at all is to give you the opportunity to cast them at the feet of another.”
Crown them, the ancient voice spoke. And write love on their arms.
This time, the voice took me by surprise, and I flinched at it.
“That can’t be true,” I replied. “The one who gave me this armband said it rejected her. These things don’t just accept anyone.”
The king laughed again.
“Sorry,” he said, “that’s actually more funny than sad. The armband accepts anyone. It accepts everyone. She couldn’t wear it because she thought she was unworthy herself,” the pale man’s grey eyes suddenly locked onto my own. “Which means you need to hurry up and do your fucking job.”
“Explain,” I said, surprised to hear the ancient king swear, and a little offended at his expectation.
“I shouldn’t need to,” he replied, not giving an inch.
Crown her. And write love on her arms.
“You heard him,” the man replied. “That should be clear.”
Lighting Distant Shores Page 3
